Nothing Left To Lose
by DiNozzo14
Summary: When an undercover op goes horribly wrong, who will be there to save him?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is just something that popped into my head. For those of you still waiting for an update on His Sorrowful Melody, I promise I haven't forgotten about it! **

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Wake up.

I'm awake; I blink but cannot see anything. As a matter of fact, I pretty sure that I cannot hear anything either-Oh!

No, wait. Yes, yes I can hear something.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

What is that sound? Water, maybe? I don't feel wet. Maybe there's a pipe loose in here somewhere. Speaking of which, where am I again?

The floor is cold, and I try again to open my eyes, well eye rather because one of them is swollen shut. I still can't see anything out of the one eye though and I bring my hand up to my face to inspect it. There's something wet covering my face and I proceed to wipe it off. Ahh. Much better, I can see now so I look back down at my hand and find that there is blood all over it.

I can't freak out, I simply cannot.

I bring my hand back up to my face and feel around for the source of the blood and find a significant gash on my forehead. This cannot be good.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Well, something is leaking but it's not a pipe; it's my blood dripping onto the cold concrete below me. Wonderful.

I try to sit up and realize quickly that it wasn't my best idea; I think my ribs might be bruised. I look around finally, and take in my surroundings.

The room is quite big, concrete was everywhere; the floor and the walls. There is a staircase at the opposite side of the room leading up to a concrete door. There are various crates taking up most of the space in the room and a small stained mattress in the corner. I try not to think about what those stains are. What disturbs me the most, though, is the body that is lying still at the foot of the stairs.

Groaning, I slowly make my way over to the man lying on the floor. He is face up thankfully, because I don't think I could have flipped him over in my current state. It probably might be better if he was face down because from the looks of him he'd taken a hell of a beating. His face was beyond recognition and I'm pretty sure the rest of his body would be similar. I reach up and feel for a pulse and not surprisingly, there isn't one. Lovely.

Why am I not dead then? I mean I'm not complaining, I can deal with a little pain if it means I'm alive. Maybe they forgot about me, if that's the case I should probably try and get out of here. I stand up, albeit gingerly and climb the stairs slowly until I reach the concrete door. There is a rusted handle and I know it won't open but I try nonetheless. I press my ear up against it but I doubt I'll hear anything. Just as I start to pull away the handle jiggles.

I gape, stagger back and ungracefully fall down a few steps, stand up and hurry as fast as I can back to my bloody spot on the floor. Maybe if they think I haven't woken, they won't kill me. I'm lying back down now, in the same position as before as the door opens as harshly as a heavy concrete door can be opened. My eyes..er eye is clamped shut and I'm trying so hard to control my breathing. In one-two-three, out three-two-one...


	2. Chapter 2

xxxxxxxxxx

"I'm tellin' ya Hank," said a deep voice, "it's a pretty good investment. Ya can't back down!"

"I'm not so sure, I still need to think about it." said Hank.

"Well you better get thinkin' cuz he ain't gonna keep you around forever if ya ain't gonna commit." said Deep Voice.

"They're not loaded in those crates, right? Hank nervously whispered.

Now I'm pretty sure I've figured out what is contained inside those various crates. How in the world have I managed to stumble across arms dealers? If they even were arms dealers, all I know at the moment is that I'm currently surrounded by crate after crate of guns (loaded?), a dead body, and two brutes that haven't noticed me yet.

"The only loaded gun that came from this room is the one you took from him." Apparently this was Deep Voice's attempt at a whisper. Someone should tell him he wasn't very successful. "Rise and shine!" he boomed as he kicked me in the side.

I blinked open my eye and came face to face with Deep Voice and Hank.

"Good, you're 'wake. Get up. Boss wants to see you." Deep Voice reached down and roughly yanked me to my feet. He was a mountain of a man, with a bald head and a thick neck. Hank, however was a wiry skinny little guy with a think head of red hair.

I swayed a little on my feet when they met the floor and stared back at them silently, I don't exactly trust my voice.

When I don't move, Deep Voice pushes me violently towards the concrete door and I walk carefully forward. Hank leads the way and I'm walking too slow apparently, because DV grabs a bruising hold on my arm and drags me alongside him. We walk down a long corridor with doors on either side lining it. We take a few left turns and a few right, and finally approach the door they had been looking for.

Once inside, the room was actually quite nice. There was a lit fireplace to the left of the open door with two chairs facing it. On the floor was a luscious maroon and gold rug that went very well with the wallpaper covering the walls, which were no doubt concrete. On the wall opposite the fireplace, to the left of the door was a graciously stacked bookcase with a generous amount of liquor bottles adorning one of the shelves. Directly in front of me sat a large mahogany desk neatly covered with office supplies. Sitting behind it was a man dressed in a very expensive suit who was currently shouting commands into a telephone. Seeing us enter, he slams down the receiver, readjusts his tie and straightens his spine and turns to face us.

"Thank you boys, you may leave now." He addresses Hank and DV because apparently, I'm not allowed to leave yet. I am tossed unceremoniously to the floor and land in a heap.

"One of my best men is dead. Did you do that?" The man speaks to me in a calm but threatening voice and I bring myself to stand up.

Well, I guess that explains No Face downstairs. But wait, I didn't kill him! At least I'm pretty sure I didn't.

I can't really remember anything past the point from when I woke up.

"Answer me!" he's suddenly right in my face and I cannot help but to take a step back.

"Uh—" my voice cracks and I clear my throat but before I can say anything more, the man in front of me steps back and composes himself.

"Come sit," he gestures to one of the chairs near the fireplace and as soon as my eyes settle on the chair something in my brain kicks in and I'm plagued with memories. I've seen this room before, I know that I have.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, _Agent_." He spat.

I balk.

"What?" I say, but even though I'm supposed to explain, I'm not supposed to speak because before I can react, bossman draws back and hits me in the gut. I grunt but don't allow him the satisfaction of screaming from the jostling of my bruised ribs. He must know this because he gets angrier.

"You walk into my establishment, I accept you as one of my own, I even treat you like royalty and you turn around and do this to me! Honestly, how did you expect me to react Special Agent DiNozzo. Hmm?"

That has to be my name because he keeps looking at me with disgust when he says it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I say and I'm finally growing a backbone. Hooray.

Bossman clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he addresses me, "Really Anthony, I expected better of you. I think maybe Derek hit you harder than necessary hmm? Yes. Well. I'll let you off the hook tonight, boy, but you better start remembering."

He stood up and came around to stand behind my chair and whispered devilishly in my ear.

"It's for the best, I think."

His British accent is not cute, and right now I don't appreciate it.

The door opens once again Deep Voice enters.

"Take him away Derek I'm finished with him for the time being." Ah so Deep Voice is Derek.

Derek hauls me up, spins me around, takes both my arms behind my back and steers me out of the door. I don't even pay attention to how many turns we take this time before another door opens and I'm tossed inside. The door locks behind me and I'm faced with my new quarters. The room is incredibly small and there are no windows, the walls have tiny scratches all over them and there are familiar spots staining the small cot in the corner. I ignore the stained cot and slide down the wall opposite the door until I'm sitting and contemplating how I got myself into this mess. What did I do? Who am I?

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

That's who I am. I'm just as sure of this fact as I am of the fact that I do not like blueberries. Which reminds me that I am starving; I cannot remember the last time I ate anything.

My eyes..eye..starts drooping and I realize that I can't do anything in my current predicament and succumb to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**xXxXxXxXx**

**Earlier:**

"Hey DiNozzo! Tony wait up!"

Tony turns around towards the familiar voice of his Probie and stops, waiting.

"We're all going out for drinks tonight to celebrate, you wanna come?" McGee says.

Tony thinks back for a moment, they had just wrapped up a rather horrific case where a fourteen year old kid brutally murdered his parents because they wouldn't let him stay out past his curfew.

The world has turned into a steaming pile of despair.

He had tried to reason with the kid and get a confession but the manipulative bastard had just sat there smugly without answering a single one of his questions.

"Uh, no. Not tonight, I'm just going to go home, maybe another night though okay?" Tony replied.

But he wasn't going home, not for a long while anyway. The Director had him doing a deep undercover stint that had required him to infiltrate the establishment of a heavily guarded arms dealer. He'd gotten in by the sheer fact that he was impeccably good with undercover work and could instantly morph into whatever character he needed to play. Maybe law enforcement was the wrong profession? Oh well, it had its rewarding experiences sometimes.

He was finally deep undercover and working closely with the famed arms dealer; Paul Ackerman. He was an ex-marine with a tendency to be extremely hot-headed and dangerous. Ackerman was a manipulative sociopath with a need to control everyone he worked with. His men adored him and would basically do anything Ackerman said; they would throw their lives away for the man.

Tony hated lying to his co-workers but he couldn't let them know what he was doing. He couldn't let them be involved because if Ackerman were to get too close and figure that Tony was a cop and not just his trusty little weapon importer, then his co-workers were in danger.

"Agent DiNozzo," Vance was summoning him, time for the game face.

Tony took the stairs one by one until he was face to face with his superior.

"Sir?"

"I've sent your shipment of weapons to the address Ackerman provided you with. They've been re-routed several times so the origin of the crates will be untraceable. Ackerman won't be able to tell where they came from. You're due to meet with him tonight am I correct?"

"Yes, sir I was actually just about to head out now. Y'know this is gonna be pretty big, it's the shipment Ackerman's been waiting on for five months now. The place is going to be swarming with his men. If I'm supposed to make my move tonight, Director, I'm going to need strong backup."

Tony surveyed Vance as he considered his request, he never trusted him and couldn't shake the thought that this was going to be a suicide mission per Director's orders.

"Yes, I'm well aware of this fact. You'll have your backup, but make sure this thing goes down without a hitch. Do you understand me?"

Tony simply nodded, turned around and headed for the elevators.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Tony drove toward the abandoned warehouse and parked his car down the street and left his work phone and badge inside. He checked his gun and made sure his undercover phone was in his pocket as he walked up toward the giant storage container that held his shipment and Ackerman.

"Anthony! My main man, you've done it!" Ackerman claps him on the back and strolls to the shipping container.

Tony looks around and observes the various henchmen but does not spot anyone that remotely resembled his back up. He knew he never should have trusted the Director. What was it with their obsession with arms dealers anyway? And why was he always the one suckered into this.

Ackerman turned suddenly, and Tony realized the fury that passed through his eyes.

Oh no.

"What is this shit Anthony?" he screamed. "Where are my weapons? I trusted you to get the job done and you failed me. I think you know perfectly well what happens when people disappoint me, don't you?"

He did.

Tony gasped and rushed over towards the empty crates and turned to face Ackerman. Well it was over now might as well reveal who he was, right?

"No, Ackerman, your weapons aren't here because that would be a felony. Not that you haven't committed one of those before." Tony said mockingly. "And I don't care what happens to people that disappoint you, you're under arrest for-"

"You're a fuckin' cop?" Ackerman shrieked and before Tony could react he was pushed violently into the wall of the shipping container behind him.

Tony whirled around and landed a few punches on the man who was currently trying to kill him. They weren't enough, however because after Tony hit him in the jaw, the man stepped back and brought a knee up to his groin and dropped him to the floor. Tony groaned, stood up and wrestled with the man as best he could back into the interior of the warehouse. The man fell through an opened door which Tony promptly ran through to tackle him. The door swung closed behind Tony as he continued pummeling the man beneath him. As he drew back for a final punch, he stopped and realized that he didn't need to continue anymore. He checked himself and realized his weapon and phone had been lost in the fight. Tony frantically searched the pockets of the downed man only to realize he had nothing but a few loose coins.

Tony blinked and looked up at the door that had closed behind him.

"No. No, no no." he shot up and rammed his shoulder into the door but to no avail. It was concrete and there was no leaving. He was just about to turn around when the door opened and revealed a tall bald man who instantly grabbed Tony by his jacket and lifted him off the floor. He descended the steps with Tony still in tow and slammed him into the wall. Tony's head hit the concrete with a deafening crack and he shook his head to keep from passing out. The brute let him go and his jello-like legs couldn't hold him up. He fell to the floor and was picked back up almost instantly. This time, however the brute held him against the wall with one hand around his throat and the other came up to hit him in the face and stomach. Tony clawed at the man's hand and finally just shoved his fingers into his eyes and crawled towards the door.

He didn't make it very far and the last thought that went through his mind before the darkness claimed him was that no one would be able to find his body. They wouldn't know where to look.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**I promise I don't hate Vance, I've actually come to like him in the past few episodes. He just kinda fit into this story...**


End file.
